Intro to Friendly Assistance and Ass Kicking
by Her Name Was Rose-2
Summary: A late night phone call from Britta to Jeff leads to the possibility of something more, something real. Some language, and hints at attempted assault. Nothing too violent or graphic though. Previously posted on AO3 but decided to add to my collection here.
1. Chapter 1

Jeff's cell phone rang out on the night stand next to his bed. He groaned then rolled over to see who it was.

Britta

He answered it groggily, "Britta it's 2 am, so this is definitely a booty call. We'll make it quick because I have to teach class in th-"

"Jeff," her voice was small and shaky, like she had been crying.

He shot up in bed, suddenly wide awake. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Can you come over?" she asked timidly.

"Britta, what happened? What's wrong?" he asked again.

"I was finishing up a shift and this guy had been talking to me all night. He walked me home and he was kinda drunk and I asked him up to my apartment for coffee but he thought I meant," she began but didn't need to finish.

"Britta did he touch you? Did he hurt you?" Jeff nearly yelled, and his pulse quickened. He could feel his face turning red with anger.

"No, he didn't do that, but he did kind of hit me a couple times, then he just stormed out," she started to explain.

Meanwhile, Jeff had already jumped out of bed, and thrown a t-shirt over his head. He grabbed his keys and wallet from a side table next to the couch, then slipped on the closest pair of shoes he could find, not caring that he was in his pajamas, and they were a $900 pair of Italian dress shoes. Britta was still telling him what had happened, "but he said he'd be back, and now I'm afraid to be here alone," she forced herself to keep it together.

"Lock your door. Don't answer it for anyone other than me. I'm on my way," he said as he grabbed a hoodie and shut his door behind him.

He wasn't sure how he made it to her apartment in seven minutes when it usually took more than fifteen. He also wasn't sure how he hadn't been pulled over since he ran every light (safely, of course).

He parked then ran from his car up the three flights of stairs to her apartment, and didn't stop until he got to her door. The greying wallpaper in the hallway was stained and peeling in spots. It was dimly lit, and the light closest to her door flickered and buzzed. He tried the knob, but it was locked; of course it was. He pulled out his keys and unlocked the knob and deadbolt, but it still didn't open. He knew she had three other locks that you could only access from the inside, so he pounded his fist against the door.

"Britta! It's Jeff. Let me in," he yelled through the door. A moment later he heard all of her locks click, then she cracked the door open, peeking through, just to be sure. When she saw it was him, she threw the door open and he stepped forward, taking her into his arms and lifting her up off the floor. She had once told him she always loved it when he hugged her that way.

"Jeff, I'm so stupid."

"Stop it, Britta, this isn't your fault."

Her fingernails dug into his back as she clung to him. She couldn't help it anymore, and the tears broke through as she continued. "I was so scared. He was a big guy and he made a pass at me but I told him 'no' so he grabbed me by the wrists and knocked me to the floor. I couldn't move," she cried into his shoulder. "Somehow I managed to knee him in the crotch, so he hit me a couple times, then stumbled out of my apartment."

Jeff reached his left arm up and stroked her hair, while his right arm still held her against his body. "I'm here. You're safe." After a moment, he set her down and released his arm from around her. She stepped back then wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Now that she was in the light Jeff could finally see where the guy had hit her.

"Oh my god, Britta!" he yelled and leaned down to better inspect her face.

"Is it bad? Oh god, it's bad, isn't it?" she asked. "I was too afraid to look."

The left side of her face was red and bruising. Dried blood was crusted along the side of her nose and mouth, and there was a cut on her cheek. He took a breath to calm down because he could tell he was making her feel even worse. He smiled slightly then cupped her cheek as he told her, "well, you probably won't be nominated beauty queen any time soon, but don't worry, you'll be pretty again in no time," he joked, trying to ease some tension. It worked because she smiled and a small laugh escaped her mouth.

"Come here," he said gently, and took her hand. He lead her to the kitchen sink where he sat her down on a miss-matched chair he pulled from her kitchen table, then got a towel wet. He dragged another chair in front of her and sat down facing her.

As he started cleaning up blood from her lip and the side of her face, she said, "last time I was the one cleaning blood off of you, remember?"

He smiled and winked at her, "how could I forget?"

"I think I liked it better when I was playing nurse," she admitted.

"Of course you did. It's hard to deny the view was spectacular."

She playfully hit his shoulder, "get over yourself, Winger."

"But it's true."

"Doesn't make you any less of an ass when you point it out."

"But all the ladies love Jeff," he joked.

"Shut up."

They fell into comfortable silence as he continued working. Suddenly she yelled, "ouch!" and flinched when he wiped a sensitive spot on her cheek.

He pulled back. "Sorry!"

She reached for the towel, "here, I can finish myself." She got up to go to the bathroom to clean herself up, then told him, "just wait on the couch. I'll be right out."

"Okay."

Her sofa creaked when he sat down and a wayward spring poked him in the back. He picked up some hipster artsy magazine from her coffee table that was sitting next to a bloodied rag. He figured she must have used it on her face before he got there. It made his pulse race again just seeing it and imagining someone hitting her. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down then noticed it was slightly cool in her apartment. "Did your Super ever fix your radiator?" he called to her.

"What do you think?" she replied back.

"That guy is useless," he said, then shook his head and pulled his jacket tighter across his chest. When she walked back out a few minutes later, her face looked much better, but was still slightly swollen and red. She had changed into an over-sized sweatshirt and pajama shorts that may have been too short for October, but it was unseasonably warm, and even if it hadn't been, Jeff wasn't in a position to complain.

"Sorry I called you so late," she started.

"No, don't apologize. It's fine. In fact, I would've been mad if I'd heard what happened and you hadn't called me," he told her.

His left arm was draped comfortably across the back of the sofa, and as she sat down, the hairs from her ponytail teased his forearm. Through his pajama pants, he could feel warmth from the side of her thigh, which was nestled up against his. Due to the small size of the sofa, when she turned toward him, her right knee ended up almost entirely in his lap. "Well, I'm actually kind of hungry and was planning on ordering some take out-"

"Britta, it's 3 am," he said skeptically as he interrupted her.

"Hey, I lived in New York," she reminded him. "I can find a 24-hour take out place anywhere," she defended herself.

He just shook his head and laughed, "wow, a 24-hour take out place? Sounds completely unnecessary, and possibly riddled with bacteria," he joked back. "This I have got to see."

She called in their order and twenty minutes later they were arguing over what to watch on Netflix when her doorbell rang. Jeff started to get up to answer it, but Britta forced him back down in his seat as she reached for her purse. "Please, I've got this. It's the least I can do, considering I woke you up and made you rush over to my place in the middle of the night and it wasn't for sex."

Jeff put his hands up in the air as a mock surrender, and let her go.

She walked over, opened the door, then froze. "Told you I'd be back," a deep voice laughed. She was forced back into her apartment by the guy from before. He knocked her to the ground again, and was trying to covering her mouth with one of his hands when she screamed.

"Britta, what is-" Jeff turned around and saw the guy on top of her. "What the hell?" he yelled, as he jumped over the back of the couch, one handed. "Get the fuck off of her asshole!" he hollered. He reached down and pried the guy off of her, then picked him up and slammed him against the wall, knocking down a picture frame. Britta scrambled up from the floor, and ran behind the couch.

"Who are you?!" the guy asked.

"You don't get to ask that," Jeff threatened. "Judging by your behavior, I'm guessing you're the one who did that to her face." The guy didn't say anything. He was struggling against the grip Jeff had on him, but he was obviously drunk, and physically was no match for Jeff. His feet were barely touching the floor.

"Answer me!" Jeff demanded.

"Whatever, dude put me down!"

"Oh, I'll put you somewhere alright." Jeff forced him back out of the apartment door and pushed him against the opposite hallway wall with his forearm against the base of the guy's neck. "That woman in there," Jeff pointed at Britta's open door, "never even think about her again, unless it's to remember that if you ever try what you did to her again, I'm going to kick your ass!" he yelled. "It takes a really big man to hit a woman. Now get the hell out of here." He grabbed the front of the guy's jacket and tossed him down the hall.

"Yeah, whatever," the guy said as he stumbled down the hall, "she's old and not even that hot. She wouldn't have been worth it."

"Keep walking asshole, you have no idea what you missed out on!" Jeff called in his direction. He heard the guy trip and possibly fall down the stairs but didn't bother checking on him. He just stood there for a moment with his jaw clenched, staring in the direction the guy had taken off, making sure he was gone. The hallway light flickered across the angular features of his face for a moment then he turned, and walked back into Britta's apartment. She was standing in the middle of her living room, arms wrapped protectively around herself, and she was visibly shaking.

"Hey, hey, hey ..." he shut the door and rushed over to wrap his arms around her. "It's okay."

"He told me," she started but had to stop to catch her breath and start over again. "He told me he'd be back. I didn't believe him."

"This is why I'm glad you called me. You weren't alone this time," he tried to reassure her.

"But one day I will be," she said as he continued to hold her. "I'll be on a date, or even just answer my door, and I'll be alone and vulnerable."

"Okay," he released her, then backed up and took her by the shoulders. "Get your stuff, you're coming to my place. I'm getting you out of your lease, and you're moving out of here. It's not safe."

"But what about the take out? It's already on the way."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head at her lack of priorities, then told her, "it'll take a few minutes to get you packed. If they get here before we leave, great, we'll eat at my place. If they don't, we leave a $20 on the door."

"But my cat!"

"He'll survive the night. Now get moving."

She started to walk toward her bedroom door, but stopped and turned around. She walked back to Jeff, reached up and took his jaw in one hand and wrapped her other arm around the back of his neck, then pulled him down to give him a quick kiss.

"What-" Jeff began to ask after she pulled away, but she cut him off.

"Thanks," she said, then her lips curled up into a small smile. She walked away, leaving him dumbfounded in her living room.


	2. Chapter 2

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang, and Jeff didn't even let her try to answer it. "This is non-negotiable," he simply told her as he walked to the door. When he opened it there was a college-aged kid (but all things considered, what now determined if someone was college-aged?) in a maroon jacket and hat which read "Mister Huan's Lucky Palace". Jeff paid him, checked the hallway, then closed and locked the door as Britta emerged from her room with a giant duffle bag and announced that she was ready to go.

"Wow! Did you pack your entire bedroom in there?" he asked. "Please tell me the cat at least isn't in there!"

"Shut up, he's right there." She pointed to her cat who was calmly watching them from the arm of her second-hand sofa. Jeff reached for her bag, but she brushed his arm back.

"Hey, hands off, Winger. I don't need your chivalry," Britta stated a little too forcefully as she struggled with her bag and tried to open her apartment door.

"Give me the bag, Britta. It looks ridiculous on you," he stated. "Plus, I refuse to be seen with a woman the size of an Oompa Loompa carrying a 50 gallon drum over her shoulder while I carry a bag of Chinese food," he countered.

"Fine," she said to him, and dropped the duffle bag at his feet. "But that means I get the extra egg roll!" The brown paper sack he was holding crunched loudly as she snatched it from his hands.

He picked up her her worn, green duffle bag then slung the strap over his head and onto his left shoulder. "Have all of them! Tofu egg rolls sound one hundred percent disgusting!" he yelled as they walked down the hall.

A neighbor two doors down opened their door, and a scruffy looking man stepped into the hallway wearing a robe. "It's the middle of the night! Some of us actually have regular jobs, so shut up or I'll have you kicked out of the building!"

"She's not coming back, jag-off, so save yourself the trouble!" Jeff yelled at the man.

"Hey, I can speak for myself, thank you very much," Britta said to Jeff defiantly. She turned to her neighbor and yelled, "what he said." The man slammed his door.

"Really, Britta?" Jeff asked and cocked his head to the side.

"Can we just get to your car? It's freezing out here in these shorts!" she exclaimed, and turned to continue walking down the hallway.

"Who's the one who decided to wear them?" he pointed out, following right behind her. If he happened to glance down at her ass to watch her walk away for a moment, no one will ever know.

"Maybe I didn't have any other clean laundry," she explained.

They continued their bickering until they got to his car. "...and that is why the greedy bastards on Wall Street continue to benefit from the back-breaking labor of those able-bodied men and women every day!" she ranted.

"Give it a rest, Britta. I've wined and dined with those kinds of people. They don't care," he told her calmly. He unlocked the car and went to put her bag in the trunk, but she just stood by her door, clutching the bag of food, with her arms crossed.

"Britta, get in the car," he said, but she didn't budge. "What do you want now?" he asked exasperated.

"You used to always open my door for me, like you were trying to impress me or something."

"Not even five minutes ago you accused me of being chivalrous, and intended it as an insult!" he shouted at her across the top of the car. "Geez, woman, make up your mind!" She huffed, then opened her door herself. "And the reason I couldn't get to your door before you is because I'm basically carrying your apartment over my shoulder," he reminded her as he placed her duffle in the trunk and shut it.

"Someone admitting he's not strong enough to do something?" she asked. "Are those pectorals painted on, or is your age finally catching up with you?" she mocked him.

"Britta, I may be 42, but 40 is the new 30," he stated. "Are those pectorals painted on?" he echoed back, mimicking her voice. "We both know that's not true." They sat and closed their doors simultaneously, then he turned the key and his radio began playing Radiohead's Creep. He snickered, then asked, "didn't you drop out of high school to impress these guys?"

"Didn't you ask me to marry you about a minute after I told you that?" she retorted.

They stared at each other, neither one knowing what to say when all of a sudden Britta started laughing. Jeff joined in, then they both took a deep breath. "Let's get the hell out of here," he said as he put the car in gear and they drove to his condo.

When they got to his parking garage, he hurried out of the car. Instead of going right for her bag in the trunk, he walked around the front of the car to open her door first, then headed for the back of the car. She smiled and got herself out of the car, now noticing that her back hurt from the second attack.

Jeff saw her rubbing her back as they made their way up to his door. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, just a little sore from being knocked to the ground, twice."

"Tell you what, let's eat, get your stuff unpacked, and due to the circumstances, I may be willing to rub your back."

"Trying to get me out of my pants, Winger?" she asked. "Because I know the only times you ever offered to rub my back, was because you knew it would always lead to sex."

"Actually, no," he responded.

"Oh, okay, good," she said a little stubbornly.

"Fine."

"Fine."

They reached his door and stepped in. She dropped the bag of food on the coffee table while he went to his bedroom and put her bag down next to his bed. When he came back out she was bent over at the refrigerator. He froze and stared, because her shorts were made even shorter with her bent over. "You want anything?" she asked over her shoulder.

He shook himself out of his trance enough to reply, "um, no."

She grabbed a bottle of water for herself, then went to sit down on the couch. He sat down next to her and toed off his shoes as she handed him a take out container.

"You don't still eat like a toddler, do you?" he asked.

"Why? You gonna make me wear a bib?" she questioned him as she pulled her legs up and sat Indian-style, popping open her container of food.

"No, I'm more worried about duck sauce getting smeared to the point of no return all over my leather furniture."

"Shut up," she said. "And even though it's been a while, I seem to remember you're the one who knocked over your drink and got it all over both of us, and your old couch."

"That wasn't my fault," he stated, and leaned back on the couch, bringing one arm up to rest along the back, where she was sitting, as he turned his body slightly toward her. "I seem to remember someone doing a very good impersonation of a prostitute giving a customer a hand-job." She blushed a little and glanced away for a moment. "Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed it, and it was a very convincing performance," he smiled at her, "which required my immediate attention. And if I happened to knock over a glass when I grabbed that someone and pulled them over my lap to straddle me, I can't be faulted for reacting appropriately given the circumstances. So, Miss Perry, I think you'll find that was also your fault. And for the record, you didn't complain too much at the time."

"Wow, you're good. Okay, I promise to never give you another hand job on the couch."

"Were you going to before?" he asked playfully.

"Just eat your dinner," she checked the clock, it was after 4 am, "okay so maybe it's more like a very early breakfast."

Jeff grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV. He found a horrible '80's movie that he knew was a guilty pleasure of hers, then leaned forward and reached for her water bottle, taking a sip.

"I thought you didn't want anything," she said, a little annoyed.

"Technically, it's my water."

"Uhh," she sighed, but didn't really have an argument.

They watched the movie for a few minutes while they finished their food, him making snide comments about how cheesy and horribly '80's it was. She hit him a couple of times, and quoted some of her favorite lines. When they were done he gathered up their take out containers and threw them away. "I hope you put those in the recycling!" she yelled from the couch. He rolled his eyes and didn't reply, but pulled them out of the trash and put them in the recycling bin she had given him.

When he sat back down, he looked over at her as she stretched and yawned. "Alright, young lady, off to bed," he told her authoritatively.

"I'll just take the couch," she said as she tried to get up, but her face screwed up in pain and she reached around to her lower back. "Ahh!" she winced. "I'd almost forgotten about what happened earlier."

Jeff jumped up to help her. "I think you've just proved you can't sleep on the couch tonight." He took her arm and gently wrapped his other arm around her back. She didn't say anything or try to fight him as he lead her to the bedroom where he'd left her bag.

"Do you need anything?" he asked.

"No, thanks though."

He went to leave, but as he turned around to say "good night" Britta had turned her back toward him and was pulling her sweatshirt off. He could see her back was covered in large blue and black bruises and he immediately stopped. "What the hell!" he exclaimed, then hurried back over to her.

"What?" she asked, and turned toward him, now facing him in just her black bra and tiny pajama shorts.

He reached for her and turned her around, "Britta your back looks awful! Is this all from tonight?"

"Well I don't know what my back looked like, but if you're asking if I was injured before I met that jerk, the answer is 'no'."

"Does it hurt?" he asked, while inspecting it closer.

"Yes," she answered honestly.

"Here, lay down on the bed," he took her arm to help her.

"Really think you can get me into bed that fast?" she said with a smile.

"Britta, I'm serious. Let me look at it."

"Oh, okay."

She winced again as she laid face down on the bed and Jeff sat down next to her. He pulled down her shorts about an inch and dipped his fingers slightly below the elastic. "Does this hurt?" he asked as he lightly touched the worst of the bruising at her hip.

"Um, a little," she replied.

"What about here?" he moved on to the middle of her back.

"No."

"What about -"

"Ouch!" she flinched.

"Okay, so don't touch there."

"Is this a sneaky way to give me a massage and have sex with me?" she asked.

He leaned down to look her in the eye and replied, "Britta, when I'm trying to seduce you, you'll definitely know it." She smiled back at him. "Is it okay if I," he started to ask, his hands hovering at the clasp of her bra.

She gathered the covers around herself, "I guess so."

"Really Britta? Getting shy? It's nothing I haven't seen before," he reminded her.

"Yeah, but it's different this time."

"Is it?"

"Yeah."

He didn't say anything else, just unclasped her bra and let the sides hang down as he continued to touch her and ask where it hurt the most. It eventually did turn into a massage, and 10 minutes later, Britta was asleep. Jeff closed her bra, and slipped her under the sheets before grabbing a spare blanket from the bed and heading for the couch.

"Wait, Jeff," Britta spoke quietly as he began walking out the door. He turned to see her smile then she said, "thank you," and snuggled into his comforter.

"Don't mention it," was all he said as he flipped off the lights and closed the door.

He laid down on the couch knowing it was almost 5 am, which meant he had to be up in two hours so he could get to work at Greendale. But he closed his eyes, and eventually was able to find sleep. That is, until he was awoken by the distinct sound of Britta screaming.


	3. Chapter 3

Jeff jumped off of the couch and ran to his bedroom then flew to the side of his bed. "Britta! Britta! Wake up!" he shook her and her eyes shot open.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" she was breathing heavily and shaking. "It was him."

"No, you're fine," he told her.

"Jeff?!" she yelled and grabbed onto him.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"I can't... that asshole even managed to freak me out in my dreams. This is so humiliating!"

"Hey," he said and pulled back to look her in the eye. He took her by the shoulders, "Britta this is normal. Some jerk attacked you and you're working through it."

"I hate this feeling."

"I'm sorry. But we're moving you out today. I don't want you going back there alone ever again."

"Jeff, I don't need you to-"

He cut her off, "After what happened last night, we both know you do."

She did need him, she knew it. It was obvious.

Sunlight was beginning to peek across the morning sky and in through Jeff's bedroom window. "Scoot," he said as he pulled back the covers and Britta moved over to give him room. He pulled the bottom of his t-shirt up and over his head, then tossed it into the laundry hamper next to the bathroom. "I'm not arguing with you right now. I have to be up in just over an hour," he told her.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

"Don't apologize, just lay down and let me get some sleep, okay?" He sank down into his bed next to Britta and rearranged the pillow behind his head.

"Okay," she said quietly.

"I'm staying here to keep the big bad dream wolf away," he told her as he slid his arm underneath her shoulders. She turned her back toward him, then took his other hand, laced their fingers, and pulled his arm to splay across her stomach as she nestled closer into him. She couldn't deny she felt completely safe in his arms, and she quickly slipped back to sleep. Once he could tell she was out, Jeff allowed himself to give in. They woke up an hour later when his alarm went off.

He groaned as he reached across Britta's shoulder, grabbed his phone to shut off the alarm then scrubbed his hand over his face. Britta opened her eyes and rolled over in his arms, now facing him.

"Good morning, sunshine," he said sarcastically.

She screwed up her face. "Ugh, your breath smells worse than Burning Man."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course you've been to Burning Man," he replied. "Hhhhello! Hhhhhow did you sleep? Hhhhave any nice dreeeeams?" He breathed right in her face and held her tighter as she struggled to get free.

"Let go of me! You're so disgusting!"

"You know you love it," he said with a smile, then let her go. He pulled back the sheets and got out of bed. "Listen, I have to teach in about an hour, but you can stay here. I only have two classes today so I can be home by noon." He walked toward his bathroom and turned around, pulled down his pajama bottoms and boxer briefs in one go, and tossed them into the laundry hamper. "We can go get the rest of your stuff when I get off."

"Um, Jeff," she said wide-eyed. "You're naked."

He looked down at his nude body then back to her. "What? Like you haven't seen it a hundred times before?" He smiled and winked, "and you're welcome." Then he turned and closed the bathroom door.

When she heard the shower start, she pulled herself out of bed. She slipped on one of his discarded t-shirts then went to the kitchen to make some coffee. When he was done getting ready, he came out of his room and walked into the kitchen.

"I thought I smelled coffee."

"Here," Britta handed him a mug of coffee made exactly the way he liked it, and they both sat down at the table.

"How's your back?" he asked.

"Um, still sore but it feels a little better," she told him.

"Good."

She was picking at a piece of toast, while he sat, drinking his coffee and reading the news on his phone. She curled both of her hands around her mug and took a sip, then set it down, licked her lips and hummed. He was watching her out of the corner of his eye as she brought the mug back up and closed her eyes when she took another sip. Jeff's gourmet coffee was so much better than the bargain crap she kept at her place. She sighed and smiled, eyes still closed, then traced her tongue across her lips.

"Okay, that's it," Jeff yelled and set down his coffee mug, spilling a little as it hit the table. "It's like the coffee is getting you off or something. I can't take this anymore."

"Jeff, what's wrong?" Britta asked, looking up from her own mug a little confused.

"I know you and me aren't about poems or love songs or other sentimental bullshit, but I have to tell you, even the way you drink your coffee knocks me the fuck out!"

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Let's just do this. Move in with me. Let's live together and fight about carpets and drapes and all that other stupid couple shit we say we hate but secretly want."

"Are you serious?" she asked.

"Yes," he said resolutely. "No more asshole dates. No more being alone. No more late night calls for me to come over."

"Um, I don't ..." she paused for a moment, "Jeff, we've talked about this before," she told him. "I mean, we even got engaged for like 5 hours because we thought we'd have to move on, remember? It seems like it's only when we feel like life is changing that we think we have to jump into this weird relationship we have." She paused. "It's not healthy."

"Britta, stop therapizing a relationship we've never even given an honest try and listen to me for a minute," he reached across the table and took her hand. "The thing is, life is constantly changing and the truly unhealthy thing is for us to think it isn't. We got engaged because we were faced with the reality that we were being forced to mature and move on. It was only when we found out we could keep living in our old, comfortable, predictable lives that we fell apart. But I've been thinking about it a lot. We can't stop life, it moves whether we like it or not. I don't want to be a 50 year-old college teacher hitting on a new crop of 19 year-olds every fall. You don't want be a 40 year-old bartender taking customers back to your cold, shitty apartment. You know it's true." He took a deep breath then continued, "so the question I have to ask you is, do you want to keep trying to stand still while life moves around you because you don't want to face reality, or do you want to take a chance, and move forward in your life... with me?"

She considered what he'd said. It was true. The entire group had moved on except for them, and their lives wouldn't revolve around Greendale forever. Eventually Jeff would get bored and want a semblance of his old life back. She was just a few credits away from a degree and needed to grow up, finish school, and find a career where she used it. They were both refusing to step into the future because they were afraid. She looked down at their entwined hands sitting next to her half full mug of coffee, and Jeff's heart thumped heavily in his chest as he waited for her response. She squeezed his hand then looked back up and smiled, "okay."

"Okay?" he asked, making sure he'd heard her right.

"Yeah, let's do it," she said, then pointed her free hand at him as she added, "but I'm not doing your laundry."

"I don't want you to, you'd probably ruin everything," he told her.

"And don't expect me to cook you dinner."

"You're a horrible chef, I already know that."

"And I'm bringing my cat."

"Ugh! Fine, but when he dies we're not getting another one. And he doesn't get to sleep on the bed!"

"Okay," she agreed.

"Good," he stated.

They stared at each other for a moment, then they both smiled. At the same time they stood up from the table and nearly crashed into each other as they started kissing frantically. Jeff picked her up around her thighs, and she locked her ankles around his hips as he carried her back to the bedroom.

He gently placed her on the bed and reached for the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing. "Wait, don't you have class?" she asked.

"Ugh," he sighed, and rolled over to lay down next to her. He stared at the ceiling as he answered her, "yes." He checked his watch, then told her, "I have to leave in fifteen minutes."

She looked at him with a smile, then bit her lip, "I think that's long enough." He looked over at her, matched her smile, then rolled back on top of her as she laughed.

Jeff was late to teach class, but he really didn't care.


End file.
